Analy High School - Azalea Yearbook (Sebastopol, CA)

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wards who wishes to see me. I would like to be directed to him, sir.” They passed from the office into a large hall, where on every inch of floor space available stood army cots, beds, shake- downs and any kind of a contraption which might serve as a resting place for a wounded man. Some of the occupants of these cots were merrily talking and laughing, others were silently smoking or writing letters, and still others were groan¬ ing and screaming from the awful agony of their shell-rent and mutilated bodies. Finally they came to a cot at the end of the room where both men came to a silent stand. Beside the bed was a stack of Boche helmets and around each spike-top crown wound a hempen cord. This is the man, sir,” the doctor said, pointing toward the cot. Sergeant Tam O’Bain, of the Eighty-eighth Machine Gunners,” and then departed. Tam’s eyes were closed and he seemed peacefully sleeping, but as soon as the doctor had left lie opened them and smiled heartily at the Captain. Well, damme, boy—I mean Carptain, sir—I’m awfully glad tae see ye, sir,” he burst out in a cheerry voice, making a feeble attempt to salute with a bandaged stub where once had been his hand. I was a wee bit lonesome in this bloomin’ morgue, an’ I had a langin’ fer tae see ye, sir,” Captain Wallingsford looked down upon his friend with a pitying gaze, and then feigning seriousness, he said: Tam O’Bain, I would like to know how you came to be found in the German lines by our infantry, sir. I issued no such orders to ou or your company, and you stand in line for a court-martial as soon as your are well.” Tam looked up and smiled again. Well, sir, I don’ know quite how it came aboot, but ye re¬ member a tellin’ me aboot me brother bein’ killed? Well, when I went back tae me company th’ laddies cared tae know wot wuz wrong, an’ when I told ’em, sir, aboot the laddie brother o’ mine, they—well, we wint out on our own ‘across th’ way.’ ” Wallingsford noted that the Scot was very weak and that with each word his voice was becoming huskier. With a touch of tenderness in his tone he cautioned: Take your time, Tam, my lad; no hurry now at all. You’ve got all the time in the world.” The Scottie looked out a window a minute, and turning his

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pressed a button. He had scarcely released his finger before the ground began to tremble; the skies without were no longer silent and shadowy; great flares of lightning, red bursts of flame, crash, roar and the hellish din of battle gained the world. Three days had passed since the engagement, and once more the Four-hundred-and-eighty-third Battalion of Royal Highlanders were enjoying a four days’ leave at the rest bil¬ lets. Captain Wallingsford was idly passing through the main thoroughfare on a casual tour of inspection, when an orderly bearing the ensigns of the Red Cross came to a halt before him. “A note, sir for Captain Wallingsford, Four-hundred-and- eighty-third Battalion, R| H.” The Britisher opened the sealed envelope and frowned as he scanned the contents: “Captain Wallingsford, “Four-hundrd-and-eighty-third Battalion, R. H.: “Dear Sir—We have in our midst a poor, unfortunate chap who has been for the last three days dangling on the brink of life and death. He was found in the newly captured Boche positions north of Cameron Way in the early hours of morning of the 28th instant last. He insists upon having an interview with you, sir, so hoping to receive a reply in person, I beg to remain, “Respectfully yours, “DR. J. L. WELCH, “Base Hospital, Rue des Rameaux, Paris.” Wallingsford took out his pen and thought a moment, then replaced it in his pocket. • Turning to the messenger he said: “I will be with you in a moment. Your orders are to direct me to Base Hospital No. 5, Rue des Rameaux, Paris.” An interval of five minutes or more passed before he re¬ turned to begin his journey. It had been drizzling and sleeting intermittently for the past two days, and the going was almost impossible. On the afternoon of the following day they reached their destination. The orderly brought Wallingsford to the head¬ quarters and reported to the commanding doctor. “I am Captain Wallingsford, of Four-hundred-and-eighty- third Royal Highlanders, sir,” the Britisher stated in a way of introduction. “You have, I believe, one of my men in your

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eyes back again, said with the same careless smile: “No. Carp- tain, I don’ hev much time fer talkin’, sir; it’ll soon be gittin’ dark, and — . Well, as I wuz sayin 4 we wint across th’ way, an’ Sammy th’ bomber, sir, an’ Mickey came with guns, and I led on ahead, sir, a breakin’ trail, ye know. An’ all th’ time before me, sir, I saw me brother’s face, and ivery time I rammed one, sir, I stopped and larfed with glee. I was avengin’ sir, an’ evenin’ up th’ debts. I had lined up behind me this train o’ spike-topped knobs a’ beatin’ fer th’ ’ome’ard ways, whin bing! they got me straight. An’ — I don’ — remember, sir, wot ’appened arfter tliet. ’ ’ He paused and again looked out of the nearby window. His voice was tired and thick and his breath came in shorter gasps. Far in the western sky, beyond the peaceful farms, an afterglow of sunset burned the blue. A few clouds in tints of faint vermillion driftly idly about, and far, far up in the heav¬ ens a group of planes came sailing homeward like so many evening doves returning to their nests. “ ’Tis the wimin from ’ell wot they called us, sir,” he said huskily, “on account of our kilties, ye see. ’Twas worse than a ’ell thet we gave ’em, till they got us mixed up in be¬ tween. An’now - ” He stopped and viewed again the peace¬ ful evening scene, and there, for a moment, beyond the lands of peasantry, he saw another picture, a little Scottish hamlet in a vale of western hills. “An’ now, ef thet be all, I guess I’ll be goin’, sir.” And Tam O’Bain of the Four-hundred-and-eightv-third Royal High¬ landers went to the ’ome’ard way.